The Last Soulsinger
by Gingerifica
Summary: The Dancer thought she was the last one, the only survivor of the war. On a chilly night in the Psychic Circus, a strange man joins her in a Song and her life is changed forever...
1. Prologue

Aria closed her eyes and held her breath. In the darkness, she could feel the notes trembling like dewdrops on metaphorical leaves. She was the last Soulsinger, the final remnant of her world, the only survivor of a great and terrible war. Of all places in the universe, the Psychic Circus was the last place she wanted to be. It was a decent job, performing to stay alive, but it wasn't ideal. If she had only snagged an infinity machine before she'd escaped her burning world….

Aria opened her eyes and shook the regrets from her mind. Barry, the loud, vertically challenged ringmaster stepped up onto a stool and announced through his purple megaphone Aria's act. She was called the 'Last of the Soulsingers, Aria Firedancer." Her name was entirely fabricated, one of many aliases she'd used over the decades. Her real title was the Dancer, but there was always the slim chance that someone would recognize it from legends and stories woven into the realities of several worlds. It was easier to use the alias she went by when she sang on her long forgotten world.

Aria took a deep breath and walked out on the balls of her feet, grinning at the crowd. A mass of multicolored flesh, feathers and scales churned in anticipation. Aria lifted a hand and the people roared, screamed and shrieked with delight. Hers was a well known act, famous in this region of the cosmos. Barry tipped his enormous top hat and waddled off, humming one of her songs as he went. He was horribly off key, but the Dancer didn't mind. She stood in the center of the ring and waited until the cries of the crowd faded to murmurs, and then finally died. She raised her arms, opened her mind, and sang. Soulsingers can sing with their voices, but most of their music is fabricated entirely with their minds. A low throbbing pulsed in the temples or respective alternatives of every organism under the big top. Even the two tailed mice scurrying at the edges of the ring fell silent and listened.

Aria opened her mouth and sang a pure and clear note that resonated across the people and subdued them into a silence so absolute; one may have imagined they had died. A melody wove in and out, back and forth, up and down. Aria liked to imagine that the melody was a fox being chased by the harmony parts, hunters on horseback. Had she known that one of her own kind was watching from the crowd, that he was in rapture by her moving performance, that he wanted desperately to join in the song – perhaps she would have run to him then. Maybe she would have stopped singing and ceased her endless wandering. She didn't have to wait long to find out. A man stood in the midst of the crowd, raised his arms to mimic hers and joined the song. A mysterious smile crept across his face and his eyes twinkled. Amazed, Aria sang louder and her mournful melody became joyous, punctuating the stillness with yellow and orange. The man pushed his way through the crowd and leaped over the boundary into the ring. He was quite a funny looking man with dark purple coattails and a bright blue bowtie. He walked over to her and laced his fingers with hers, smiling like a child at Christmas time. Aria felt her soul burst into a thousand fragments and reassemble themselves into something new. He was a Soulsinger. More than that, he was a Gallifreyan. She could feel past the rhythm and the pulsing of his joy that he too was a Time Lord.


	2. Chapter 1

Clara strained to see past the horns of a rather large individual who was covered with a thick layer of brown fur. The Doctor had taken a funny turn when this Aria Firedancer person started singing. At first, she was quite certain he was going to lose his lunch – which had consisted of biscuits and fizzy intergalactic lemon tea – all over the back of the horned fellow's head. Then he'd stood up and joined the act like he was a bloody opera singer. Clara sighed heavily and plunked back down into her seat. The horned gentleman twisted around and raised a furry eyebrow quizzically. "Would you like me to move a bit, madam?" He rumbled. Clara's eyes grew as large as saucers. "Yes, actually, that would be great, thanks," She watched the behemoth shuffle to the left, startling a feathered woman who squawked a complaint. "My apologies," The horned beast muttered. Clara stood up and watched the spectacle going on below. It had taken her a good five minutes to shake away the incessant melody filling her brain, and seven more to get the horned creature to move.

"What the hell is he doing?" She asked herself, watching the Doctor and Aria circle each other like boxers getting ready to pummel each other to death.

Clara cleared her mind and let the song filter back in, one bittersweet note at a time. She gasped in shock and her hands flew to her mouth. A tenor had joined the melody and she was certain it was the Doctor.

Far below, the Doctor was encircling Aria. Her gold eyes flashed enticingly beneath the hot electric lights of the tent. Aria's hair was the exact color of the red grass of Gallifrey, and it shimmered a bit like it as well. If he didn't know any better, he would say she _was_ from Gallifrey. That was impossible, of course. He and the Master were the only two survivors. He sang in old Gallifreyan the question that poised itself on the tip of his tongue.

_Who are you?_ His throbbing bass notes were replied to with a flowing descant. _The Dancer_.

The title sparked a long dead memory in the back of his mind. It was made of silver flower blossoms on the trees and lemonade he had stolen from his professor's office. They had both loved the Earth. The memory expanded, grew and pulsed with the Dancer's song. In his mind's eye, he saw the Dancer swinging a sharp long blade around in a circle. She was screaming at a horde of nightmares that were crawling towards her. They consisted of Neverweres and Daleks. From his displaced position outside himself, he watched her cry his name as the howls of his TARDIS faded away into the distance. He had left her to die, and now she was back from the dead. The Doctor stopped in his tracks, and the Dancer mimicked him, tilting her head to one side. Curiosity radiated from her, hotter than the flames of Hell. The Doctor shuddered in delight. She didn't know he was. This was going to be _spectacular_.

He opened his mouth and sang audibly, "I am the Doctor."

Her melody died away suddenly to an intense humming. The crowd began to stir, murmuring their concerns to one another. He could faintly hear Clara calling his name, trying to get him to return to his seat. _That is impossible_, The Dancer murmured, _I do not believe you._ Crystal clear tears were dripping from her face, landing with wet plops to the sand near her bare feet. "Believe it." The Doctor whispered, not even bothering to sing. The music swelled suddenly to a deafening ending then stopped. The crowd rose to their feet in thunderous applause, howling their approval. The Doctor bowed to them and the Dancer followed suit.

Thoughts and questions buzzed through their minds, mostly _how_ and _why_. Two Soulsingers surviving the Great Time War was more than impossible, it was a miracle.

Stranger things had happened before, however. This was just one more oddity to add to the growing list.

The Dancer wrapped her fingers around the Doctor's wrist and whispered in his ear, "Come."

He didn't even object.

The Doctor twisted his head around and waved at Clara, hoping she'd have the good sense to follow. Clara threw her hands up in exasperation and clambered around the befuddled horned person almost stepping on a young boy who had a head that resembled a toadstool. She had had quite enough of the Doctor's hypocritical attitude. First he tells her not to wander off, rule one and some such nonsense, and then he goes traipsing about and leaves her behind in a cloud of dust.

Did he except her to clean up his mess and watch after him like she was his – "Nanny," she groaned.

It was bad enough the overgrown five year old had a temperamental time machine, let alone an absent minded personality and a tendency to wander off.

"Excuse me, pardon me," she muttered.

Clara pushed past a two headed individual before finally stepping into the ring. She ran after the Doctor and Aria who were making their way towards a small flap in the tent wall.

"Oi! Wait up!" She cried, flicking her bangs out of her face.

She knew it had been a bad idea to get them cut. They just got in the way now. She wondered how the Doctor had been able to sing like that and who this Firedancer person was. The Doctor asked Aria to slow down a bit so that Clara could catch up. The audience was extremely unsettled now. They were milling about and whispering to one another, agitated that the act had ended so suddenly. It was as if the Dancer's spell had begun to fade and the Scooby Doo gang had revealed that she was nothing more than an ordinary woman after all. Clara managed to catch the last bit of a conversation Aria and the Doctor had been having.

"The ringmaster will have your head."  
"Who, Barry? He's harmless."

Clara couldn't quite place Aria's accent. It was rich and dropped the 'wh' off of 'who' so it sounded like she had said 'oo'. 'Barry' sounded like 'berry', and the end of 'harmless' was more like 'liss'. Clara furrowed her brow and tried to figure it out. She had to remind herself Aria was probably not human. If anything, her accent sounded vaguely French.

Clara tapped the Doctor's shoulder, "Hello? Mind filling me in?"

He looked back at her and shook his head, "Not now, Clara, we have to get the Dancer out of here."

The Dancer? Clara frowned, "Whatdya mean? Isn't your name Aria?" She directed this question to Aria personally.

"Not now, child. We must flee." Clara suppressed a laugh. She was a hardly a child, and who used words like 'we must flee', alien or not?

"I'm sorry but who exactly are you?"

The Dancer and the Doctor paused in front of the tiny exit at the tent wall. Beyond them, Clara could make out stars and a rocky landscape. Night had already fallen on Axis 7. She observed them for a moment, before realizing something – The Dancer's hand had slid down into the Doctor's. They seemed to be one entity, hands clasped together and breathing synchronized. It was eerie.

Clara shook her head, "Never mind, I do _not_ need to know. I can see it for myself."

She ducked around them and marched out into the chilly alien night. She'd had enough of the circus for one day.

Barry waddled back into the ring, hefting his belt higher up on his massive belly. The crowd was booing at him, demanding he give them back their money.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the delay!" The hissed and snarled at him. Barry cowered and shuffled away from his tiny wooden stool. "Next up we have the dancing cats from Elurian 9!"

The crowd grumbled and bemoaned, but finally settled when they noticed two humanoid cats waiting patiently on the sidelines. Barry rubbed his hands together and grinned beneath his illustrious mustache. He had the dogs from Glustro 8 searching for Aria right now….


End file.
